Chapter 3

Dr. Thorne's face blurred through my tears as he gently placed a small, ornate urn in my trembling hands.

"I'm so sorry, Luna Claire," he whispered, his voice cracking with genuine grief. "We did everything possible, but the seizures were too severe. The toxicology tests showed traces of wolfsbane in his milk."

Wolfsbane. The word echoed in my hollow chest. A poison deadly to our kind, especially to a newborn pup.

"Who?" I managed to ask, my fingers curling protectively around the cold metal container that now held all that remained of my son. My miracle. My Alexander.

Dr. Thorne shook his head, his eyes downcast. "I don't know. The omega caretaker claims she prepared the formula exactly as instructed. I've already informed the Alpha."

Marcus. The name tasted bitter in my mouth. Where was he? Why wasn't he here, grieving for our child?

Aria howled within me, her maternal anguish tearing through my soul. *Our pup. Our beautiful pup. Gone.*

"I need to go," I whispered, clutching the urn to my chest. It was so small. Too small to contain a life, a future, all my hopes and dreams.

"Luna, perhaps you should rest first," Dr. Thorne suggested gently, concern etched across his tired face. "The shock—"

"No." The word came out sharper than I intended. "I need to speak with my mate."

I left before he could protest further, my feet carrying me mechanically through the healing center's corridors. Pack members stepped aside as I passed, their faces a blur of pity and discomfort. Some reached out, offering condolences I couldn't bear to hear.

The weight of the urn against my chest was the only thing anchoring me to reality. Without it, I might have floated away, dissolved into the grief that threatened to consume me entirely.

*Derek will be here soon,* I reminded myself. My brother, my protector. The only person I could trust now.

The walk back to the pack house stretched endlessly, each step requiring more strength than I thought I possessed. The morning sun seemed obscenely bright, mocking my darkness. How dare the world continue turning when my son was gone?

As I approached the main building, a strange sensation prickled at the back of my neck. Aria stirred uneasily, her senses more acute than my human form.

*Listen,* she urged.

I paused in the shadowed corridor that led to the Alpha's quarters—our quarters. And then I heard it. Soft at first, then unmistakable. Moans. Rhythmic and passionate, echoing from behind our bedroom door.

My blood turned to ice in my veins. No. It couldn't be.

Slowly, as if moving through water, I approached the door. It wasn't fully closed—a sliver of space revealed the unthinkable within.

Marcus, my mate, my Alpha, the father of my dead child, was entangled on our bed with Rachel. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her head thrown back in ecstasy, her dark hair spilling across my pillows.

"Yes, Alpha," she moaned, her voice carrying clearly through the gap. "I've waited so long for this to be official."

"It's always been you," Marcus growled, his hands possessively gripping her hips. "You've always been my true choice."

The urn nearly slipped from my grasp. I clutched it tighter, the cold metal biting into my palms.

My son was dead—his ashes still warm in this urn—and here they were, celebrating. In our bed. While I had been cradling my baby's lifeless body, they had been...

Suddenly, everything clicked into horrible focus. The wolfsbane. The milk. Rachel's hunger when she looked at my son. Her eagerness to "raise him as her own."

Aria's rage exploded through me, a tsunami of fury and betrayal that threatened to tear me apart. My wolf wanted blood. Wanted to shift and rip out their throats, to make them suffer as we suffered.

But something deeper, colder, more calculated held me back. This wasn't the time. Not yet.

I stepped away from the door, my mind eerily calm despite the storm raging inside me. They hadn't noticed me. They were too lost in each other, too consumed by their victory to sense my presence.

Clutching my son's ashes to my heart, I backed away silently, each step cementing my resolve.

They would pay. Both of them. For Alexander. For me. For everything they had stolen.

But first, I needed to survive.